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Chapter 12 – Where Evil Sleeps

The lawyer stood by the window, his tone dead serious.

> “Don’t do anything illegal again. We’re going through hell just to prove your innocence after what happened at that damned school.”

I didn’t look at him.

I was too busy reading the morning newspaper.

> “Can’t promise anything,” I muttered, flipping the page.

Then I saw it.

> "Home Broken Into – Man Found Dead, Wife and Four Children Missing."

Photos attached.Blonde-haired mother.Four children—ages 16 to 8.Happy, glowing faces.

And then—

> “Main suspect is Seno.”

But this time… there was a difference.The wife was missing.

My jaw clenched.

This wasn’t just another hit.

This was escalation.

He wasn’t keeping them in the basement anymore.

But still—I had to be sure.

---

Return to the Basement

I broke into Mo’s apartment again. Slipped through shadows. Moved like smoke.

The basement was emptier than last time.

But I looked closer.

Handcuffs bolted to pipes.

A stained mattress. The kind that doesn’t scream "sleep"—but "suffering."

And scattered across the floor?

Blue pills. Dozens.Shimmering. Identical. Wrong.

This wasn’t madness anymore.

This was ritual.

I didn’t gag. I didn’t panic.

I just turned and whispered to myself:

> “This ends today.”

---

The Hunt

I pulled footage from the new family's home. Their exterior camera had one thing:

Mo.

Sneaking in through the back.

Leaving through the front.

Heading left.

I sprinted to the corner shop across the street. Asked the clerk. He didn’t question me—just let me see the feed.

Mo.

Running into the woods.

---

I followed.

Through trees. Branches snapping underfoot. Rain starting to fall.

And then—I saw it.

A wooden shack. Rotting. Crooked.

And from inside—

Muffled screams.And sadistic laughter.

---

I didn’t wait.

I ran full-force and started kicking the door.

Again. And again. The wood cracked.

The screams continued.

And then—

The door creaked open.

Mo stood there.

Sweat-soaked. Smiling.

A fistful of blue pills in his hand.

> “Care to join me?” he asked.

> “Have Satan join you,” I answered.

I pulled my gun.

He didn’t move.

Just pointed a finger at his own forehead.

> “Do it,” he whispered.

I hesitated.

My finger tightened.

Then—BANG.

Mo dropped to the floor.

Still breathing.

I didn’t shoot.

Behind me—I saw smoke.

I turned.

Nina.

Gun still raised. Eyes wide. Trembling.

> “I… I did it,” she whispered.

I stepped toward her.

Put a hand on her shoulder.

> “I know what you did was hard for you.But we still have some work to do.”

---

The Rescue

We moved quickly.

Untied the wife. The kids. Ungagged them.

Bruised. Starving. Traumatized.

But alive.

Nina led us to a pickup truck waiting in the woods.

We carried each one, gently loading them into the back.

But as I was about to slam the truck door—

I looked back.

Mo.

Still alive.

Unconscious. Barely breathing.

My gut twisted.

He deserved prison. He deserved worse.

But he also deserved—

a second chance.

Not because of who he was.

But because of who I was.

So I lifted him too.

---

The Hospital

Dr. Akira met us at the emergency entrance.

He didn’t ask questions.

He just got to work.

Hours passed.

We sat in silence.

Then Akira came to me.

> “Mo’s in a coma,” he said.“His body’s reacting to the overdose.He might not wake up for weeks.And when he does… he’ll probably have amnesia.”

I didn’t speak.

He put a hand on my shoulder.

> “Maybe that’s for the better.”

---

That night, I looked out at the skyline from the hospital roof.

Nina sat beside me, holding a cup of hot chocolate.

Below us, the city breathed.

Somewhere deep inside, I realized:

I was no longer just fighting evil.

I was carrying its survivors.

And I was not putting them down.

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